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“Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t matter,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Because,” she says. “Now that he’s marked you, he’ll be able to track you. From now on, he’ll always know where you are.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
?
REYES
The righteous anger I knew was coming seems to have already found me.
It’s barely even been a day since I found my mate, and I can feel her rage growing as I settle into my room to try writing this week’s homily. I meant to let her bathe, but it hadn’t occurred to me that she might investigate her wounds…and that it would be obvious that I bit her.
She knows, though.
I feel her anger like barbs pricking my skin, skating down my spine and stabbing deep into my chest. I put down my pen and paper and lean back in the chair at my small desk, breathing as I wait for her to arrive.
Tilda comes to my room like a storm.
Her footsteps sound in the corridor first, her loud voice arguing with Peaches more meek tone. Then they’re at the door, and it flings open—Peaches behind a blindfolded Tilda, the brunette stumbling in despite the fact that she can’t see. I can’t believe she still accepted the show of discretion when she was so angry.
My words are already having an effect on her. I have to be more careful with the things I tell her to do.
“This is his room?” Tilda demands.
“Yes,” I say.
Tilda tilts her head over her shoulder, even though she certainly can’t see a thing. “Get out,” she hisses.
Peaches makes herself scarce, and I stand as the door thuds shut. Tilda’s hand goes straight to the blindfold to tear it off, her green eyes red with tears.
“What. The.Fuck.”
I raise my hands. “We need to talk,” I say. “I should have told you.”
“Damn right.” She tosses the blindfold to the floor, stamping on it as she paces across the floor. “What the…I should fucking kill you.”
“It didn’t work out well the last time,” I mutter.
“Fucking stop,” she says. She looks me in the eye, taking a threatening step toward me. As she puts weight on her left foot, I can see that it hurts her, but my glance of concern just seems to make her angrier. “You can…you can feel me now?”
My eyes slide shut, my breath heaving in my lungs. “It’s complicated.”
“Well, there’s no time like the present to explain,” she says. “Youmarkedme like livestock—”
“No,” I interrupt before she can spiral. “Not like that. Not like that at all.”
“Well then how do you explain this?” she asks. She yanks up her shirt, showing me the bite mark. It’s healing over nicely, and I have a hard time suppressing the tremor of satisfaction that goes through me at the sight of it. “It feels a hell of a lot like a brand.”
“I didn’t have any other choice,” I say. “I was watching you bleed out, and I couldn’t stop it. Our medic wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t…”
“You should havelet me die,” she hisses.
I blanche, narrowing my eyes. “You’re only able to say that because you’re still here.”
“I would rather be dead than controlled.”
